Owning Lonely
by anon-onthewall
Summary: From the front door, up the stairs to Justin's room is littered with dropped clothes, kisses and stinging, playful slaps. But still, Justin owns the feeling of lonely and nothing else.


Justin owns the feeling of lonely and nothing else.

From the front door, up the stairs to Justin's room is littered with dropped clothes, kisses and stinging, playful slaps. Wade's hand fell on Justin's side more than one, each time earning a laugh and the man would turn, catching the older man's lips on his own. Wade knew the apartment well, and with the knowledge of Justin plus the floor plan, he easily stepped over the strewn items around the place.

"C'mon," that accent drawled, shutting the bedroom door. Justin was shirtless, and Wade had already stripped to his boxers at this point. Hands tugged at toned arms, pushing the younger man to the bed. Thighs were spread with a nudging, encouraging knee and teeth threatened waiting lips. Justin moans softly, letting his voice paint the thick air. Wade reaches over him, rifling through the drawer and pulling out handcuffs. Even as Justin cleans them, there's still blood in the slits and they both harden over the thought.

"D'you wanna hurt me?" the words are shaped on a sharp tongue, and Justin looks up at Wade with an expression that could almost weaken the other man. Instead, he gives a short nod, grabbing both of Justin's wrists roughly to handcuff them above his head. Tight, he's bound tight in the uncomfortable metal. He knows he'll rub his wrists raw if he moves so he does, twisting his hands about as if he's trying to get out.

Wade smacks Justin and the younger lets out a soft, leashed moan. "Stop," he says as Justin writhes slightly beneath him. But he doesn't, the man keeps up his antics, pushing his searching hips from the bed. Wade lets him for a few moments, reveling in the touch until he pulls away. He merely watches Justin dance for him, arching his spine and writhing like a good little whore. "I want you so fucking bad," Wade mutters, his fingernails scratching down Justin's thighs and leaving thick, angry red lines on the skin.

"Then take me," Justin murmurs like Wade should have known the phrase was going to spill over the air so nonchalantly. So Wade backhands Justin for being a smartass, giving the man a stinging cheek and a low moan- he loves every needle sinking through his skin. Wade traces his tongue along every curve and dip in Justin's chest, sinking down to his stomach. He bites hard; Justin cries out, pushing his body toward the pain.

His back arches, "Please," is all he needs to say. Wade snaps his jaws once against the soft skin of Justin's stomach, breaking the flesh and filling wounds and a waiting mouth with blood. Justin moans. Wade laps away the ink spilling over the skin, loving the feel of Justin under him and having complete control of him.

He could do anything to the other and Justin wouldn't be able to do a thing. He merely lays there, completely trusting the other and moaning- writhing like a whore, taking everything that's thrown at him.

"Are you a whore?" Wade asks, taking place between Justin's thighs once again. The man only nods, stringing his wrists against the metal to be closer though he knows he's taken them as far as they can go. His skin is loved raw, bleeding just in the slightest. The other catches sight of the blood making neat, waved lines along Justin's arms. His tongue cleans them away, pressing his hips close to Justin's for the mere enjoyment of the other squirming uncomfortably.

"Y-Yeah," Justin watches Wade lick the blood from his arms, "I-I'm…"

"You're what?" Thighs settle between his- once again, always leading to that point but never getting farther. This time is does, Wade teases Justin with the head of his cock, one of the man's hips in his hand, himself in the other as he pushes in. Justin hasn't been a virgin for years, and Wade isn't a god. But they act on the instincts- Justin gasps and recoils from what he's been asking for. The pain is welcome but it's still pain, and it locks up his back in a way he only gets with this man.

Wade pays no attention, growling softly as he fucks down into Justin, fingers scratching along neat scars on the outside of Justin's thigh. He hardened, thinking about ruining that skin and making Justin bleed once again- that would come after. His hand slipped from Justin's hand to the man's cock, pumping him as he thrust. Justin knew the walls were thin so he held his voice in his throat as well as he could, but Wade had slapped him once for being quiet and that was all it took. The sex takes a turn into animalistic fucking, the bed slapping roughly against the wall and Justin's cries filling the room instead of air. With each thrust Wade tears some of Justin away for himself, the man completely his and nothing but.

"Mine," Wade smacks the other's thigh roughly, slipping his hand around to grab Justin's ass and pull him close with a rough hand and strong grip. Justin nods, sweat beaded on his face, and his hair sticks to his forehead. "You're fucking mine. Fucking slut," Wade moans and pushes harder into Justin, "F-Fuck, fuck…" Justin thrusts his hips up once, the feeling pooling in his stomach and he cries out, pulling his wrists harder against his restraints. He gives a low moan, bucking his hips as he comes in Wade's hand.

The older man bends, biting and kissing Justin's lips as he keeps going, fucking the man harder until he comes as well, filling Justin and keeping himself there for each wave that pushes his hips forward.

When both of them can breathe without trembling lips and lungs, shaking fingers unlock Justin's wrists and kiss the wounds away.

"Are you okay?" Justin nods, watching at Wade pulls gauze from the bedside drawer, wrapping both of his wrists up to stop the bleeding. Two kisses are placed on his wrist, and Wade lays with Justin, pulling him close. Side-by-side they lie together, Wade's fingertips trailing over the Braille on Justin's hip, the only place they can keep it hidden. He knows what's written there- their past, their checkmarks. He makes another neat line with Justin's consent and a small knife.

"Is this over?" Wade asks, placing the knife back in the drawer. It's a thing that hides most of Justin's life- mostly hides Wade as he hides himself. Fingers lace together and Justin shakes his head, heaving a soft sigh, closing his eyes.

"Why should it be?" His fingers tremble from the aftershock of sex, "We're friends, and… we have fun, right?" Wade nods against Justin's shoulder, waiting for the man's hip to stop bleeding before getting up, snatching up clothes and pulling them on. Justin sits up and watches, his wrists now sore and his skin built on needles.

"I'll see you later, Justin. I gotta get to practice," Justin nods, leaning into the kiss Wade gives before leaving. He doesn't love the other, really, as he lives. He can't afford to love him, can't pay that or the pain would be more than physical. But it's still an empty feeling in his chest as he gets dressed, that gaping hole beating like a hammer against cloth. He doesn't know what to say with his mouth dry and the metallic taste of his own blood hidden in sweet-smiled goodbye kisses.

Justin owns the feeling of lonely and nothing else.


End file.
